On This Valentines Day
by twenty1down
Summary: Every year, she receives a single red rose from the man who loves her the most. Every year, no matter what. Warning character Death


**Ok, so this was just a random story that popped in my head.**

Temperance Brennan strolled into her office, ignoring the incessant chatter of her interns.

Valentines Day. It was a waste. One day where people wasted their money to shower each other with essentially meaningless gifts and confess their undying love. Love is ephemeral, as are all feelings and the gifts, they were almost mandatory. Where was the love in that?

Shaking her head, she sat down at her desk, preparing to begin her work. To shut out the people blinded by love that surrounded her.

A flash of crimson catches her eye. She turns and eyes a single rose, sitting atop her desk. Her heart flutters for a moment, before she returns to her stoic self. She reaches for the flower, raising it to her nose to smell its delicate scent. A note lies beneath it.

_Happy Valentines Day Bones_

_Meet me at the Reflecting Pool, Eight?_

_Booth_

She smiles, letting her mind wander for a moment. Standing, rose still in hand, she walks off in search for a vase. A clear, intricately woven one sparks her interest. She places her rose in the water, then sets the vase on her desk. As she works, she finds her eyes continuously wandering to the beautiful flower.

Such a simple thing. It doesn't seem so meaningless when it comes from the one who means the most.

She stands before the water, watching the light from the moon reflect back at her. A wind rushes by her on a silent mission. Her body involuntarily trembles, and she feels a warm fabric being draped over her shoulders. She turns and sees her partner standing before her, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

Her heart seems to warm at the very sight of him. She can smell his unique scent wafting from the jacket around her. And she smiles back at him.

"You look beautiful."

A light pink tints her cheeks. "Thank you. You look very handsome."

He grins now, what she has dubbed his cocky, yet charming, grin. He can get away with anything. She has been one to give him what he desires when he flashes his smile to her. Though she would never tell him that.

"Thank you. For the rose." She starts. She is still unsure of why she is here.

He simply nods, and takes her hand. They walk down the length of the long pool, fingers intertwined, swaying between them. A silence accompanies their stroll, but it is comfortable. Easy.

They are relaxed in each other presence, words unnecessary. But there is something that needs to be said. She knows that when he stops suddenly.

"Temperance, I…" He stops, searching for the right words. She looks up at him, trusting him. She sees hesitation in his warm brown eyes. But she sees something more as well. Silently, she urges him on.

"I love you." Her breath hitches, but she says nothing. He doesn't expect her to, he has more to say. "I have from the very beginning. I love you. I love the way you spend your life, searching for truth. I love the way you immerse yourself in your job, it's your duty to find the families of the bones you look at. I love the way nothing stops you. I love how you honestly care about every one of those victims. I love how much you care about all your friends. I love how, no matter what people say, you are the warmest, kindest person I know. I love how you would do anything for your family."

He stops to gauge her reaction. She hasn't run, though he can see she is frightened. But she wants to stay as well. She wants to love this man as he says he loves her. She listens as he speaks. "I love your smile. I love how your eyes seem to sparkle when you laugh. I love how you need me to translate pop culture references, or how you need to translate scientific stuff for me. I love how you get a faraway look in your eyes when you think about your past. I love when you are happy about your past. I hate that it hurts you. I hate that your family abandoned you. I hate that people call you cold and unfeeling. I hate that no one except me and the squints get to experience the wonderful you. I hate it when you're scared or when you're sad. I never want that. I know you don't like it when I protect you, but I can't let anything happen to you. I don't know what I would do without you."

She stares up at him for a moment, just a second, as her lightening fast mind processes his words. He loves her for everything she is, and everything she isn't. He loves her and she loves him. "I love you too."

He smiles down at her, his warm eyes staring into hers. She laughs a little, then reaches up to press her lips gently to his. It is a short kiss a sweet kiss, but a kiss filled with passion and promise.

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close to him. She revels in the warmth and simple comfort he brings. He leans his head down to whisper in her ear. His lips brush gently against her ear as he speaks.

"Happy Valentines Day."

And it is happy. Valentines Day is not a waste. It is a beautiful thing and she can imagine sharing the rest of them with the man who holds her now.

ONE YEAR LATER

Temperance lies on her bed, alone. She looks to the other half, remembering who used to fill the now empty space. She can imagine his smile, his touch, and his words as they greet her every morning and whisper in her ear every night.

But now he is gone. There is no more of his sweet smile or his warm brown eyes.

She can remember as if it was yesterday, though it was months ago. She can hear the shots ring out and feel her partner fall beside her. She can remember his blood rushing through fingers as she tries to stop the bleeding. But it is no use. She watched as the warmth in his eyes disappeared and was replaced with blackness, emptiness. She felt his heart stop below her hands. In that second, she willed her own to stop as well, but no such relief is granted to her.

And now she lies alone, wanting nothing more than to be erased from this world, a world without him. But she's knows she cannot do that. Even if he is gone, he would not want her to commit such an act.

So now on this Valentines Day, one year from the day she truly became happy, she reminisces. She remembers their meeting by the pool, his profession, his every word. She remembers how his lips felt against hers. She remembers the nights beyond that. Watching movies all night, wrapped in each others arms. Making love, she finally understood the difference he tried to explain to her. Waking up, his arms wrapped around her, her head resting on his chest, listening to his heart beat. She remembers it all.

She remembers the single rose he gave to her that day, one year ago. That one flower brought them so much happiness. That one flower, in her eyes, is what started it all.

The tears fall from her once clear blue eyes. They are now clouded with pain. She sobs for the love she lost. She wonders if they waited to long. She could have had more time with him, if only she hadn't been so afraid. She curses herself now for what could have been.

A knock rings through their home. It will always be _their_ home. Never hers alone, though she has never felt more alone now.

She sighs, wiping away the tears, and walks from their room to the door. Opening it, she sees no one. As she shuts the door, she glances down. A long, slender box sits in front of her door. She reaches down and examines it, looking for evidence of what it is or who it's from. She sees none. Looking around the door, still seeing no one, she brings the box inside and makes her way back to the bedroom.

Sitting on their bed, she eyes the box again. She feels a slight thrill, the thrill of a child on Christmas. But then she remembers her childhood Christmases and it is gone. Unenthusiastically, she removes the top of the box. She removes the tissue paper that surrounds its gift. She draws in a sharp breath as she sees what lies beneath.

A single red rose.

She cries again, sobbing as she remembers. She pulls the rose, ever so gently, from its resting place. She can smell its delicate scent. It sends her back to that day in her office. Back to the first rose. And the tears fall onto the rose now resting in her hand. She almost thinks it a joke, that someone is taunting her, until she sees that note that lie beneath the flower.

_Happy Valentines Day Bones_

_I love you_

_Booth_

Her tears stain the paper, and her sobs echo around her. She doesn't wonder how the rose got there, or who delivered it. She just knows that somehow, this was the doing of the man she loves.

On this Valentines Day, she lies on their bed, and for the first time in months, she doesn't feel so alone.

FORTY YEARS LATER

Every Valentines Day, I listened to Bren describe the rose she got. I remember her telling me about the first one, and the second, and everyone after that. I remember squealing when she told me about that very first rose, and I remember crying with her when she told me about the one that followed.

Every year, she has received a single rose on Valentines Day from the man who loved her the most. We used to try to figure out how it was happening, but we have since given up. She didn't seem all that compelled to find out the truth anyway.

Now here I stand, on this Valentines Day, saying a few words to my friends as they now lie together. I always knew they would end up together forever.

I remember how important this day became for Bren, and I want it to stay that way.

I look at the rose engraved on my best friend's headstone. I put that there. I figured Booth would want her to always have a rose. But as I look lower, my eyes fall on one that is already there. A single red rose, just as always. I look around, but no one is there. Again I wonder how that rose got there, but I'll just leave it at that. I'll always just wonder.

**Ok, so there you go. I hope you guys liked it. Please, please review! **

**The last part was Angela. I couldn't figure out how to say that without it sounding weird so I just put it down here. :D And I know Brennan passed away kind of young, but I needed Angela to still be alive. If you wonder how the roses got there, you could say it was a miracle and stop reading here. Ok. I just figured that Booth had one of his friends, or Parker (except Rebecca would do it until he was old enough to keep a secret :D) or maybe even just a flower shop, deliver a rose every year. I think shops do that. I really don't know.**


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